


Outcasts

by ShonnaRose



Category: Original Work
Genre: Aliens, Commissioned Work, Developing Friendship, First Meetings, Gen, Punk Rock, Teen Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-20
Updated: 2021-01-20
Packaged: 2021-03-12 04:08:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,966
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28879221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShonnaRose/pseuds/ShonnaRose
Summary: Two girls, one banished and the other a runaway, form a friendship over their love for a popular punk rock artist.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 5





	Outcasts

**Author's Note:**

> This is a commissioned work for MacStar. The characters within the story belong to her.
> 
> Beta read by TheWinterComet.

Earth. An interesting planet deep within space. Upon its surface lived many people, all of varying shapes, sizes, and even colours. Some had short hair, others had long. One person had green eyes while another had brown. And each human had their own sense of style.

It was that individuality that fascinated her, freezing her steps to stare whenever she encountered someone new. Sometimes, they stopped and stared back. Her emotions surged with happiness. They were learning about her too!

So she held her head high and gave them a big smile. But by the time she opened her mouth to start a conversation, they were already walking away. She had no clue why they did such a thing. Maybe they found her appearance boring? The entire way to her new home, she had contemplated what form she wished to take. There were so many to choose from!

Her final decision wasn’t made until a few days after landing, when she discovered things called ‘graphic novels’ at a local literature shop. The cover bore a picture of a young girl with bright coloured hair and eyes. It was perfect!

In the middle of the section, Cipe altered her form from a 20-something human to a 14-year-old girl with long, soft pink hair and light blue eyes. Surely the humans would appreciate her new appearance.

She turned to wave at the ones staring at her. Except they screamed and ran away, leaving her alone still clutching the illustrated literature. Her eyes blinked and head tilted, unsure of what to make of their reactions and how they made her feel.

With the book tucked under her arm, she trudged to her guardian in a section dedicated to human history. “I don’t understand. I altered my appearance to be more appealing, and the humans just ran away.”

“That was a foolish thing to do,” he said, snapping the book he was reading shut. “Humans are easily frightened beings. They’ll rip apart anything they do not understand. Or will use it for their own selfish gain. Never let any humans know what you are.”

His words made her stomach flip. She looked down, mumbling, “I’m sorry.”

“Simply understand the dangers humans possess to you. That is what you need to take away from this.” He returned the book to the shelf and scoffed. “A juvenile? Couldn’t you have chosen something more practical? You could be an individual of authority, where you can access a job of power and wealth.”

Long before her banishment, her guardian was stationed on Earth. He had taken the form of a muscular man in a suit.

“I like this body,” she contradicted, lifting up the hem of her soft skirt with a smile. “It’ll be much more fun than some stuff adult.”

He rolled his eyes. “I suppose I will have to enroll you into an educational facility now. There are laws, and we cannot garner the attention of law enforcement.”

“You mean a place with children?”

Happiness surged through her at his confirmation. Cipe had seen the humans’ young running and laughing with each other. That was what she wanted. A whole bunch of friends to play and share things with. To have fun together.

An educational facility would be the perfect place to find some.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It wasn’t what she had expected. The educational facility, or school, was established by a belief system known as religion. A way for humans to be in denial about their short lives. Many different belief systems existed, but this particular one was called ‘Catholicism.’

And it was incredibly dull.

Not unlike the lectures back home, where they were forced to sit and listen to a single person drone about some planet or other. Knowledge was highly revered. Their race were research gatherers, using their shapeshifting to assimilate into a planet’s society. Once a moon cycle, they returned to Emos Nital Drow with new information they had gathered.

Cipe’s mind always wandered from her studies. Her lack of effort was what banished her to the planet Earth. The notion had terrified her at first, but she soon realized it was for the best. Now she could learn by doing rather than listening.

Except in school.

The worst part was morning prayer. Everyday, they sat on hard surfaces called ‘pews,’ bowed their heads, and clasped their hands. No one was allowed to speak or move. Prayer only ended when the headmaster uttered a strange word. Always the same one, “Amen.”

It was despicable. Cipe kept tugging at the collar of the clothing she was required to wear. She’d also stretch out her legs until the toes her shoes touched the pew in front of her. These actions earned her a pair of elbows in her ribs. Her neighbours glared with their eyes half open.

They were all dressed the same, with the only difference being between the sexes. Boys wore slacks, girls wore skirts and stockings. There was no individuality between them, all gray and boring. Even their hair was all the same, being shades of brown or red. Cipe was the only one with pink hair.

She was always given peculiar looks. A bunch of narrowed eyes and wrinkled noses. No one drew enjoyment from her appearance, and she was ostracized by every group. There wasn’t anyone who wanted to be her friend.

By the time school was over, she felt like she was going to explode from having to sit still all day. She ran all the way back to the flat she shared with her guardian, up the stairs to the 15th floor—there was no 13th for some odd reason—and to her small bedroom.

There, within those four walls, she could tear off the stiff material and dress into a soft, lacy clothing. Her sights focused on the tall bookcase, packed tight with entertainment.

Back home, things like ‘entertainment’ were seen as frivolous, a waste of time. Instead of concerts, they just held more lectures.

None of it was meaningless. Harmonious melodies, motion pictures, interactive games... all of it contained so much information. Sure, most were absolute lies, but those were far more exciting. It was amazing how people could spend hours watching the same video on their electronic devices.

While Cipe lacked such a device, she managed to procure plenty of enjoyment. From digital video discs to musical ones. Various forms of literature that her guardian insisted on her having to magazines and graphic novels. She was proud of it all.

But her absolute favorite was music. The voices singing in time with the instruments. She ran the tip of her finger over the cases until it settled on one. The cover bore a young woman with long, dark brown hair that had a purple streak through it. Emosewa, a popular musician in the genre called ‘punk rock.’

Cipe slipped the disc into the tiny system that had been her very first purchase. Upon tapping a button, the music blared through the speakers, practically shaking the flat.

Emosewa’s voice belted out the lyrics, and Cipe snagged her hairbrush to use as a microphone. She performed alongside her, twirling and stepping in time with the music. Below them, the crowed cheered and shouted their desires to be her friends. Cipe held out her hand to them and dozens clasped it.

When the song came to an end, she beamed at the thunderous applause. She curtsied and immediately started to sing the next song.

Her show came to a screeching halt when a pounding shook her door. The deep voice of her guardian came soon after, “Turn that infernal sound off! How am I supposed to make sure our finances are in order with you wailing like that?”

“Sorry!” Her hairbrush hit the floor, and she turned off the disc player.

The door opened, revealing a wrinkled forehead and scrunched lips. Her guardian ignored her, going straight for the player. He picked up the disc’s case and studied it. She gripped her arm, worrying he was about to take it away.

“I understand you enjoy this ‘Emosewa’ human,” he said, pointing to the young woman on the cover.

“Yes. I take pleasure in her voice and her songs.”

“Then I will make a proposal. If you can promise me to reserve your screaming for when I’m out of the flat...” He dug into his trousers and pulled out two slips of paper. They were placed into Cipe’s open palms. “Then you can attend her concert here in town this weekend.”

“Admit One,” she read, fingertips brushing against the printed symbols. “Emosewa’s Punk i\It Up Tour.”

She stared at the tickets for a whole minute before a squeal escaped her lips. Her eyes went wide at the sound, but only made it louder. The guardian quickly covered his ears and scowled at her. His expression went ignored as she hopped up and down, her long hair flying.

“Yes! Of course I promise! I’ll only sing when you aren’t here. Thank you!” She threw her arms around his waist, giving him a tight hug she has seen human young give their parents.

He cleared his throat and grabbed her arms to pry her off. “You are welcome, Cipe.”

Once she was dislodged, she went right back to the disc player and turned it on. She bobbed her head to the music, admiring the tickets.

A groan broke through the music. “I should have included the music in our deal,” he grumbled, leaving the room and closing the door behind him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

She thrust the door behind her, banging it against its frame. A burst of air sent the papers on her desk to flutter into the floor. Her combat boots crashed into them, smearing the algebra equations.

At her bed, she looked up. On the wall hung a framed photo. Within it was a girl in a lacy, pink dress. She sat on a man’s lap. He was sharply dressed in a black suit and tie. The woman behind them had her arms draped over his shoulders. Her clothing was a flowing, light green dress that was nearly as radiant as her smile.

The sight turned the acid in her belly, so she ripped it off the wall. She chucked it across the room, where it cracked against one of the Emosewa posters. The frame snapped in two and hit the floor, scattering glass into the carpet.

Her chest heaved with deep breaths, and she clenched her fists. They slammed against the bedspread. How could he?

Tears poured down her cheeks as she collapsed into a heap on the floor. It wasn’t like her father cared anything about her. The only thing that was important to him was his job. He worked as a CEO of some big company. It kept him away from home. Sometimes for long periods of time on business trips to Tahiti, Jamaica, or some other tropical place.

When he was home, he barely gave Lor—his only child—a passing glance. He’d go straight to his wife, and they would disappear into another room. The rare times he ate dinner with them, he only talked about his latest deals and projects. Not once did he ask Lor about her day or how she was doing in school.

Meanwhile, she was trapped with her mum, a stay-at-home housewife who took her job way too seriously. The house was always spotless. Every meal was home cooked. And everything had to be in order, including Lor herself.

Every morning it was, “For goodness’ sake, Loretta! Did you even brush your hair this morning? You look like one of those troll dolls!”

And each time reports were sent out, “Three failing grades? You better march up to your room and hit those books right now, young lady. And I better not hear any of that racket you call ‘music!’”

Then there was always the classic: “Don’t slouch. You’ll never attract the right sort of guy if you always act like such a slob!” That was her mother’s favourite line, spoken at the beginning of every meal. Whether they had company or not.

Day in and day out. When they weren’t at each other’s throats, they were threatening each other with silence.

The only respite Lor had was music. Namely Emosewa, a popular punk rock artist. Lor owned all her albums, even her greats hits. Her walls were covered with posters, magazine articles, and printed images of the singer.

Emosewa was her idol. She longed be exactly like her.

So she picked up the guitar instead of the violin like her oul wan had insisted. She dressed in combat boots, torn jeans, and a black leather jacket. Even a strip of her hair was dyed a dark purple to match Emosewa’s.

Her mum had been absolutely furious and grounded her for weeks.

Of course, when Emosewa announced her upcoming concert in Dublin the coming weekend, Lor immediately printed out ticket information, directions to the convention centre, and a spidering map of bus routes. She stuffed them into her backpack and raced home to see how much money she had.

Notes and coins rained onto the bedspread. What she didn’t spend on CDs, clothes, and merchandise, she stashed away into an eye-blindingly pink piggy bank she got for Christmas one year. Through the years, it grew heavier and heavier. Money saved in the hopes of attending a concert one day. There had to be hundreds of euro in there by now!

Feverishly, she sorted every note. Her fingers quivered with each ten and twenty she discovered between all the smaller notes and coins. Everything came out to €104.23.

That couldn’t be right. A second count yielded the same result. She jumped up and dropped to the floor. Maybe a few coins or bills fell. She discovered a single €1 coin and flung it into the pile.

The ticket for the concert was €96.25 by itself, while the cost for a round trip ticket was €56. That was €152.25, without counting the cost of food. She barely had half! Her heart raced at the thought of not going.

She pressed her forehead against the edge of the bed. Her only hope was to go ask her mum for the rest of the money or to drive her. The latter sent a shudder down her spine. How humiliating! To be driven to a concert by a parent like they were going to see the latest Disney picture.

Better to just ask for the money. Should that fail, she could always wait until her father got home. If nothing else, he could always be counted on to hand over a fistful of notes if he was too lost in thought to question it.

With her print-outs in hand, she found her mum busy preparing dinner in the kitchen.

“About time you came back down,” she said the moment Lor’s foot touched the tile. Even with her back turned, she always knew she was there. “You need to get the table set. Your father will be home any minute.”

“Before I do that, I have something I want to ask you.”

Her mum sighed, took the spoon out of a pot of sauce, and replaced the lid. She turned to Lor, wiping her hands on her apron. “Let me guess. You’re wanting more money to purchase another pair of torn pants?”

“No, not exactly.” She handed her the print-outs, and she examined them with confusion on her face. “I want to attend the Emosewa concert this weekend, and I only have enough to cover the ticket and not the—”

“Absolutely not.”

The papers were crumpled together into an apple-sized ball. She tossed it unceremoniously into the garbage. Lor’s mouth hung open, watching the bin’s lid rock back and forth while her mum returned to cooking.

It shouldn’t be a shock. Her oul wan stood against all notions of fun, especially where music tastes were concerned. According to her, young ladies should enjoy boring classical music, not loud screaming and ‘nails on a chalkboard.’

Her stomach tightened with anger. It wasn’t fair.

“Why not?” she asked, folding her arms across her chest.

And was responded with, “Do you even have to ask such a question, Loretta? That concert is four hours away. You aren’t going to go anywhere that far without your father or myself accompanying you.”

“Then take me.”

She cringed the moment the words left her lips. Alone with her for almost four hours? That was the purest hell. But if it meant getting to see her idol in person...

A lid slammed down on one of the pots. She turned, the look of murder in her eyes. “You don’t order me around, young lady. No one is going to take you to that concert, and I won’t hear another word about it.”

“It’s not fair!” She stomped her foot. “Four hours isn’t that long! Not compared to Da’s business trips. And it’s not like you have anything—”

Her mum thrust a finger into her face. “Finish that sentence, and you’ll be grounded for a year.”

Lor took a step back. “It’s just one concert,” she said with a glare. “I swear, I won’t ask for anything else for the rest of my life, if you’d just take me.”

Begging. She despised begging her oul wan for anything.

“That’s what you said about taking guitar lessons!” her mum pointed out. “Just set the table. This discussion is over.” She turned her back on Lor once again and proceeded to dish out the food into serving dishes.

“I hate you!” Lor yelled, kicking the garbage bin. It banged against the floor. “You’re a horrible mother. I wish you’d bloody eff off!”

Someone cleared their throat behind her. Lor whirled around and came face to face with the ugliest look she’d ever seen her father wear. His eyebrows knitted so close together they formed a single black line over his eyes; his nostrils flared out and lips curled into a snarl.

“How dare you speak to your mother like that,” he growled. “After everything she’s done for this family. You ungrateful brat.”

Tears sprang in her eyes. For years, she wanted her father to acknowledge her, to take an interest in her life. It was as if he never saw her. And when he finally did, it was an insult. She bolted from the room and straight up the stairs.

Now she seethed with anger, slumped against her bed. The tears poured down like rain. It wasn’t fair. Neither of them cared about how she felt.

Enough was enough. It was the final straw that broke the camel’s back. Time for her to leave and never look back.

So in the dead of night, she stuffed as many clothes and toiletries as she could into her backpack. With it and her guitar case strapped to her back, she left the house. Her parents were fast asleep. When they woke up in the morning, they’d find her gone and celebrate.

At least her mother would. There was a part of her that hoped her father would be devastated. That he would be completely heartbroken and regret everything he had said to her. Maybe enough for him to realize just how important she was and come running.

Lor stormed down the streets, walking the six blocks to the bus station. She’d go on to Dublin. Once there, she would find a way to get into the convention centre. Perhaps even to Emosewa’s dressing room.

Once her idol heard her tragic backstory of neglect, she’d be willing to help her. Especially after she heard her perform. Lor would be offered a job as the new lead guitarist. And one day, perform alongside Emosewa rather than behind her.

Her imagination ran wild about the future she was about to embark on as the bus took her far from home.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The line of humans stretched far beyond her line of sight. Cipe stood on her toes to see where the last one stood. There were too many heads in stocking caps blocking her view. Blacks, grays, dark reds, and a few purples stretched as far as the eye could see. They were packed together like the music discs on her shelf.

So many people. And yet, not a single one wanted to be her friend. She lifted the tickets to her face. Two ‘admit ones.’ One for herself, the other for a friend.

During lunchtime, she announced that she had an extra ticket if anyone wanted to go with her. She had expected everyone to clamour for the chance to go, but no one did.

“Who’d want to go with you?” a guy from across the room called out, and all of his friends howled. The entire room erupted with laughter.

Cipe slowly sat back down. She looked to the teens she shared a table with. None of them were laughing, but they were turned away from her, whispering among themselves.

Standing in line now, she saw those same classmates. They stood clustered together, talking excitedly about what songs Emosewa intended to perform. Any attempt Cipe made to join the conversation went completely ignored.

Why didn’t anyone want to be her friend?

If nothing else, the extra ticket would look nice on her bookshelf. She pocketed both and picked a nearby building to stare at.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The alleyway beside the convention centre was barren of human life, all of the excitement was gathered at the front. And the side door was there. Waiting for her to pull it open and stride into her future.

Lor smiled and dashed towards it.

He appeared out of nowhere. A tall man in a black shirt with the word ‘Security’ on it. An ID card swayed back and forth before coming to a stop over his chest. She stumbled to a halt just before she could ram into him.

“Excuse me, miss, but this door is for authorised personnel only,” he said, a hand on his hip.

Her heart skipped a beat. “Oh, I’m authorised,” she managed to say, pointing at the guitar case. “I’m with the band.”

“Then show me your identification.”

“I-identification?”

The man shook his head and lifted the ID card. “All band members, security, and convention centre employees are required to wear these. If you don’t have one, you’ll have to use the front like everyone else.”

He pushed her towards the street, away from her future. She stomped on his toes and leaned to run past him. His arm caught her around the waist. Her boots and fists slammed against him, but it was like hitting a stone wall. It did nothing to slow him down.

Before she knew it, he flung her like a ragdoll. Her bottom slammed against the sidewalk; the guitar case thudded against the back of her head.

“You...” She trailed off, realizing she was no longer home. After shaking the ringing from her ears, she yelled, “...manky gobshite!”

The guard crossed his arms, face melding into a sneer. If you try again, I’ll call the Shades,” he warned and disappeared back down the alley.

She jumped up and threw another curse at him. Years of pent up frustration flinging from her mouth.

Laughter broke through her rage, and she turned her glare towards the mass of her peers. The sea of grays, blacks, and dark purples looked on her with teasing smiles. They were just jealous she had been brave enough to try and get backstage.

There was one person who stood out. A girl with pink hair, wearing a bright palette of blues and yellows. She wore a mask of sympathy.

Lor didn’t want her pity.

Flashing a rude gesture, she kicked over one of the signs advertising the show. Anything to keep from crying in front of them. Her plans had failed. There was no way for her to get inside without risking time in a cell.

Besides, she had no way to get home. Like she ever wanted to go back there anyway.

Hands shoved into her pockets, she walked away. The sounds of laughter and taunts chased after.

One voice broke through the teasing, “Hey! Hold on.”

The same girl was pushing her way out of the jam-packed line. She looked like some character straight outta a magical girl anime series with that pink hair brushing her waist. Her clothes were brighter than the sun. One would need a pair of sunglasses to look at her.

She fell out of the crowd and into the sidewalk. Judging by the sneers on the faces looking down, somebody had tripped her. Lor shook her head and continued on.

It soon became clear that someone was following. One glance around her guitar case showed it was the pink-haired girl. She sprinted in order to catch up. “Please wait!”

“What do you want? Come to tease me some more?” Lor snapped, and the girl came to a stop with her head tilted.

“No. Of course not!”

“Then why are ya followin’ me?”

“Because I want to know why you’re so angry.”

Lor took a step back. She waited for the punchline that was sure to come next, but it never did. The girl merely blinked, tilting her head so far that her shoulder jabbed into her cheek.

“Feh,” Lor scoffed and shifted the weight of her burdens. “Like that’s any of yer business.”

She resumed walking, but the girl stayed on her heels. “You mean you aren’t going to tell me?” she asked and jogged until she walked beside her. A beaming smiling spread over her face. “Aw, come on. It might help if you talk about it.”

“Don’t you gotta concert to get to?”

Her question wiped the smile away and froze the girl in her tracks. She took a look over her shoulder and let out a whine. “Yeah, but...” Trailing off, she buried her hand into her jacket pocket. Two tickets were brought out. “No one wanted to attend with me. It’d be so much more fun with a friend.”

“You have an extra ticket!” Lor shouted, staring wide-eyed at the slips of paper. She took a deep breath and gripped her pack’s strap. “I mean... I could attend. With you.”

It wouldn’t exactly be pity, if she herself was taking pity on the girl.

The squeal that came out of the girl’s mouth was high enough to shatter every window within a 50 yard radius. Lor’s hands jumped over her ears, but it did nothing to block out the noise as the girl threw her arms around her.

“Oh! Thank, thank, thank you!” She jumped up and down with her still in her clasp.

How strange, considering she was the one giving up a nearly hundred euro ticket. Oh, well. If she was happy to give it up, Lor was more than happy to take it. It was her key to getting backstage and meeting Emosewa.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A friend. Cipe couldn’t believe it. Her head was spinning from the excitement as she and the girl with the guitar walked to their seats. The entire way, she asked her at least a half a dozen questions. So far, she has learned the girl’s name was Lor and that she has lived for 14 years.

“What’s your favorite song?” Cipe asked the moment they got past introductions.

“Dark Roads,” quickly came the answer. Lor’s eyes were as round as a planet, fixated directly on her.

“Really? That’s one of her best ones!” Her exclamation was met with wrinkled brows. “Can you really play that guitar?”

“Sure can. Been takin’ lessons for donkey’s years.”

“Huh?” All she could picture was the long-eared mammal she had only seen in a school book. What did such creatures have to do with guitars?

Lor’s brows wrinkled so much they fused together. “I mean a long time.”

“Oh.” She still pictured a donkey with a guitar strapped around its neck, but she ignored it for her next question, “Then can you sing? I bet you know every single song on Emosewa’s albums.”

“I’ve practiced them,” Lor said, shrugging off her guitar and backpack.

Cipe bounced up and down. “Then after the concert, we could sing some together. That would be so much fun!”

“While that sounds like a deadly idea, I’ve got plans.”

She stopped bouncing and puffed out her cheeks. “I didn’t mean we should kill someone!” she yelled. “That would be a terrible thing to do!”

“Whoa, hey. Calm down.” Lor held up a hand, shaking her head. “I just meant it was a good idea. How can ya not know anything? Are you an alien or somethin’?”

Her heart back flipped at the word, and she pressed her hands to her chest. It was one she had learned before taking her first steps on the planet’s surface. Alien. Used to describe beings from another planet, usually depicted as green or grayish creatures with dark eyes and large, round heads. In motion pictures, they show them as looking identical with no varying features.

While most humans consider them myths, Cipe’s guardian had warned her about letting people know who she was. When they had returned to the flat after her transformation in the literature store, he gave her a long lecture about humans who would dissect or take advantage of her ability.

Somehow, this human had figured it out.

“H-how did you know?” Cipe squeaked and took a step back when Lor burst out laughing.

“Ah! Yer just coddin’ me!” She slapped her on the back. “Not bad for a magical girl cosplayer.”

Nothing this human said made any sense. At least she didn’t seem to want to drag her to a science facility or alert the authorities.

The lights flared to life below them. She whirled towards it, forgetting all about their conversation. Her eyes focused on the purple electric guitar at the centre of the stage. Emosewa’s trademark instrument.

Cipe shot her fists into the air. “Yay! It’s starting! Isn’t it so exciting?”

“Bang on!” Lor shouted with another slap on her back. “This is gonna be a savage show.”

“The savagiest!”

She took the stage. Emosewa wore a black leather jacket covered in colourful pins glittering in the light. The entire centre exploded with cheers, whistles, and proclamations of undying love.

The musician took it all in stride. She draped her guitar’s strap over her shoulder and stepped up to the microphone. “Howya, Dublin!” her voice boomed over the speakers. “I’m so happy to see each and every one of ya. Who’s ready to crack on?”

“I am!” Lor’s voice rasped, barely audible over the roar of thousands.

“Righto, let’s rock!” The guitar came alive in her magical hands, belting chords in harmony with her voice.

Cipe sang along like she would if she were in her bedroom. Her arms and hips swayed to the rhythm. She kept the movements small, not wanting to hit Lor or her other neighbour. The centre was absolutely packed, almost as tight as the chapel during prayer. But unlike that, they were free to move as much as they wanted. It was all so amazing!

The entire universe evaporated around them. As if the show was the only thing happening at all. Song after glorious song. Sweat matted her hair and forced her to remove her jacket, but Cipe was completely exalted.

Emosewa performed a set of five songs and then broke for a break. The lights snapped off, but the audience continued to cheer for two whole minutes before settling into a dull buzz.

“Wasn’t that cool?” Cipe asked Lor, twirling until she faced her.

She was staring at her with wide eyes; she smiled, hand on her hip. “You’re suckin’ diesel, my friend.”

The first part made no sense, but she certainly understood the last part. Friend. Lor had called her her friend!

Cipe leaped into the air and landed with her arms going around her. “You bet I am!” she squealed. “Thank you so much.”

“Y-you’re welcome.” She patted her back and groaned. “But you hug a little too tightly!”

“Oh, sorry!” Cipe let her go and watched as she rubbed her shoulders.

“Hey, do ya think you could sing one of those songs again?”

“Sure! I’d be happy to.”

So Cipe sang the first song again, one of her personal favourites.

Lor kept her eyes on her the entire time, and she wasn’t the only one. Their neighbours were silent and turned to watch the brief performance. When it was over, they clapped and cheered. Cipe took a bow, beaming at all of them.

The loudest claps came from Lor, who looked absolutely stunned. “That was amazing,” she whispered, voice barely over Cipe’s audience. “You sing as well as Emosewa!”

“What? No way!” Cipe shook her head. Her cheeks blazed, and she brushed the tips of her fingers against them. Was it a fever like humans get? But she thought she was immune to their illnesses.

“You do! Well...” Lor looked to her guitar case on the floor. Her eyes drifted towards the dark, empty stage. Any minute, the band would take back up their instruments and begin the second half of the show. “...maybe with more practice.”

“I used to sing every single day. But I’ve had to limit it because my guardian hates it.”

That elicited a chuckle from Lor. “Yeah, I hear ya. My oul wan hates my taste in music. Calls it garbage.”

Cipe’s cheeks puffed out again. “Well how can anyone call any music garbage?” she asked. “It’s the best thing in the universe!”

“Bang on.” Lor grinned from ear to ear.

The expression caused Cipe’s heart to surge with happiness. “We really need to get together. Tonight would be perfect. My guardian’s gone away on business. He’ll be gone at least a week. But you have plans.” Her voice grew small, the positive emotion drifting away.

Lor stood straight, her eyes softening. “Your da’s gone a trip?” she asked.

“He’s not exactly my ‘da.’ But he does manage our finances and procure food for us. His... superiors called him up to file the monthly report. That usually takes a week.”

During Cipe’s explanation, Lor bit her lip. She glanced to the dark stage. “Ya know...” she mumbled, looking back at her. “My plans aren’t all that important. Especially if ya don’t mind me crashin’ at your place for a while?”

“’Crashin’?’” Did she want to destroy her flat?

“Yeah. Ya know... a sleepover.”

“Oh! Like what friends do!” Cipe bounced on her toes. Her first sleepover! With her first friend! She couldn’t believe her good luck.

The lights on stage blazed back to life, and the members of the band returned to their instruments. Emosewa pulled up a stool and settled on it with an acoustic guitar pressed into her thighs.

“Hope everyone had a amazin’ break.” She strummed the guitar and the drummer followed suit with a gentle rhythm. “We’re startin’ this set off nice and slow.”

While a sweet melody from the keyboardist joined them, Lor leaned over and whispered into Cipe’s ear, “After the show, could we grab a bite to eat? I’m starvin’.”

“Sure. I know a place that’s right across from my flat.”

Cipe was about the burst with excitement. She couldn’t believe she’d made a friend and were going to do what friends all over the planet do.

It was all too much, and she had to jump up and down from the burst of energy. The act earned her a few harsh whispers. She settled back into her seat, mumbling, “Sorry.”

Lor shook her head, but gave her a firm pat on the shoulder with a smirk. They returned their attention to the stage, singing softly along.

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, everyone! It's been a while since I've posted something. I know it's not the next chapter for Reaching Out--rest assured, I'm still working on it; it's a long one for obvious reasons. Alongside it, I've been working on this commission. Not only is it my first one, but it is also my first original work! Well, semi-original, as the characters do not belong to me. I hope the commissioner and everyone else here enjoys the final product!


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